


Drawn to a bad flame

by thecrackshiplollipop



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrackshiplollipop/pseuds/thecrackshiplollipop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica's trying to be good, trying to set a good example, trying to do right by Franky. But Franky knows the right buttons to push until Erica can't resist her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawn to a bad flame

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to my betas ratherembarrassing (for necessary Aussification) and timorous_scribe (as always).

“Discharge?” Franky pulls a face and slouches back in her seat. It’s been two years and she’s almost halfway to a double degree, but she still presents herself like the angry, sullen inmate who didn’t even want to think about finishing her HSC. “Sounds a bit gross.”

“Franky,” Erica rolls her eyes and sighs, but she can’t keep from smiling. “You know what I mean. Parole. We need to discuss your plans for continuing your education, housing placement. It’s important. Do you have a support system outside? How about Kim?”

“Nah. She moved to Sydney. Thought maybe I could crash on your couch, seeing as I’m all alone, otherwise. Might not get parole that way.”

"Franky-”

“You keep saying my name like that, I’m not going to be able to focus on the conversation.”

“Please try.” Erica gets up from behind her desk and flicks her fringe out of her eyes, trying to ignore the way Franky squints at her. “Have you thought about it at all?” She walks around her desk and closes the door that the officer had left open. She engages the lock but lingers between the couch and Franky’s chair.

“Not really, no.” Franky frowns, looking serious for a moment, “I haven’t got anyone on the outside, so.” She shrugs and looks away, eyeing the long gauzy curtains covering the windows.

“Would you like me to set up an appointment with a social worker? They might be able to figure out something, like a halfway house.” She watches Franky carefully, the way she kicks her feet against the carpet, the way she twists her shoulders around before shifting her attention back to Erica. She glances at the ring on Erica’s finger - the diamond one she insists on wearing even though she keeps pushing off wedding plans - and swallows, like she’s choking down something she wants to say. Or do.

“Nah.” She says after a beat, forcing an insincere smile. “But really, what’s so wrong with having me crash at your place? We’ve already spent a lot of time together.”

The problem Erica has found in spending so much time with Franky is that she never knows when Franky is being sincere or just trying to goad her. The smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, the way her tongue darts out and wets her bottom lip, neither of them are tells one way or the other.

“It would be,” Erica finds herself at a loss for words. The idea of Franky sleeping on her couch makes her blush all over and she flusters under Franky’s unreadable gaze. “It just couldn’t be, Franky. You know that. You’ll have to find someone you can stay with until you can get Centrelink sorted out...”

Franky rolls her eyes and heaves herself out of the chair. She has this smattering of nasty purple bruises on her right bicep and Erica doesn’t have to guess who’s responsible for it, but something about Franky always being bruised or battered lights a spark in an unknown, dark place inside Erica.

“If there’s nothing else, _Miss Davidson_ ,” Franky steps into Erica’s personal space and raises her brows, “I’d like to head back to the yard.” Erica’s heart speeds up and she feels herself growing wet. The proximity thing has always been a problem, and now Franky is looking at her like she’s prey and, well, she just doesn’t stand much of a chance.

“Oh,” she’s not very good at disguising the hurt in her voice - and she used to be so good at keeping things from Franky - and just nods, looking to the door, “I’ll just go get an officer, then.”

“Unless,” Franky reaches out, grips Erica’s chin gently, and turns her head. “Is there anything else?” There’s a pause, Erica inhales sharply, and Franky leans in close enough that she can feel Erica’s exhale.

“What?” Erica pulls her chin away, breaking the spell, but Franky steps into her space again and brushes her fingertips over Erica’s blushing cheek.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.” Franky smiles, looking sincere for the first time the whole meeting. “I mean. Franky.” She brushes Franky’s hand away from her cheek and takes a small step back. “I can’t. W- _we_. We can't."

"Why? ‘Cause you don't want to? Or because it's wrong?" Franky leans forward again, brushes her fingertips over Erica's knuckles before sliding her fingers down to loosely grip her wrist. Erica shudders and pulls back.

"Because, we're in my office and it's _inappropriate_."

"But you want to?"Franky can't help the smirk, the cockily raised brow.

"I-" Erica flushes, heat curling from her cheeks and washing over her body straight to her core. She doesn't need to see her face to know it's obvious. The grin that pulls Franky's mouth wider is enough. "Please."

Franky grabs her again, this time both hands to her waist, and pulls her close until she’s all Erica can smell - the shampoo she uses and the lip balm she applied before arriving, the mint gum she was chewing when she mumbles Erica’s name like a plea.

Erica is sure she’ll regret this later, but for now, her door is locked and no one is due for at least thirty minutes. Franky is _right there_ , looking at her like she always does, a slight smile that reaches her eyes and a flicker of desire that makes Erica’s heart rattle in its cage. She completely forgets about escorting Franky back to the yard and doesn’t back away when Franky presses in to kiss her this time.

Mark never kisses her like this. He never makes her blood run hot like liquid fire in her veins or makes her whole body tingle in anticipation for his next move. But when Franky kisses her, Erica’s body forgets every touch from Mark and her brain is awash with a million new sensations. When Franky passes her tongue over Erica's bottom lip, she feels her knees wobble and her breath hitches in her chest. Franky pulls Erica close, tugging at her hips until they’re close enough for Franky to roll her hips against Erica’s.

“Oh- um, the couch,” Erica gasps and pulls back enough so the tips of their noses brush. The noise Franky makes is so obscene it shoots straight through Erica and she feels herself becoming wetter. Franky licks her lips and pushes Erica back until her calves bump the couch cushions and Erica sits down with a hard thump.

Franky kneels next to Erica, brushing the fringe from her face when she looks up. Erica looks as flushed as Franky feels so she doesn’t hesitate leaning in for another kiss. This time Franky strokes her thumbs over her jawline and down her neck, feeling her pulse race when she drags her teeth over Erica’s bottom lip.

“How much time do we have?” Franky traces her mouth down Erica’s jaw and to her earlobe, nicking the skin with her teeth.

“Twenty minutes, I think?”

Franky is running her fingers over Erica’s skin, tracing the hollow of her throat, skimming the plunging neckline of her blouse; it’s making it hard for Erica to think. Franky pops the top button of the blouse and Erica whimpers, half-panicked.

“We don’t have to.” Franky sounds completely against saying it, but she _has_ to, because Erica has this look on her face like she’s not sure what direction this will be going in.

“Twenty minutes,” she says finally, reaching up to the next button on her blouse. “Could you...?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” She grins and slips off the couch to kneel in front of Erica.

Franky doesn’t bother pulling Erica’s blouse off, instead she pops a few more buttons open and dips her head down to trail kisses down her sternum. She traces the tip of her tongue over the swell of Erica’s breast while she slips a hand inside her blouse and undoes her bra. Erica makes an impressed noise that earns a chuckle from Franky.

“Not used to dexterity?"

Erica just chuckles and looks away. Franky takes that as a good sign and pushes Erica’s bra up, running her thumb over her nipple before cupping her completely.  

“Oh _god_.” Erica gasps and swallows hard, tilting her head back and arching into the touch. Franky’s other hand rests on her thigh, hot through the thin material of her skirt, and she breathes hot against the skin of Erica’s breast.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

Erica’s mind flits to every dream she’s ever had about Franky, the ones she’s been having for years, and she’s suddenly so aroused she feels like her head’s going to explode.

“ _Please_.” She says with a gasp, her cheeks burning at the idea of actually asking for what she wants, but Franky reads her mind, licks her lips, and slides her hands up under Erica’s skirt. She bites her lip when Franky hooks her fingers over the elastic of her underwear and pulls them off in a swift, practiced move.

Franky’s cheeks are tinged pink as she shoves the tight material of Erica’s skirt up and for a fleeting moment Erica thinks Franky is just as overwhelmed as she is. But then Franky spreads Erica’s legs and presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

“Oh god,” Erica trembles and threads her fingers through Franky's hair, still conflicted, still terrified that someone could knock on the door. Franky groans at the light tug - something Erica hadn’t anticipated - and strokes two fingers inside her in a long exhale. She’s so wet there’s no need for pretense, no time for it, and the gasp that shakes Erica’s body lets Franky know it’s _just_ right.

Franky runs her tongue over Erica’s clit and her hips bounce at the touch. Franky curls her fingers to stroke deep inside and Erica’s vision swims.

“Franky,” Erica says in a moan. In response, Franky picks up the pace, swirls her tongue in indecipherable letters around Erica’s clit and fucks her with quick, deep thrusts.

It’s exactly what Erica has always wanted from Mark and exactly what she dreams of on long hot nights when she’s left unsatisfied. She looks down past her rumpled blouse, to Franky’s head between her legs. Almost on cue, Franky tilts her head and glances up and -

The look is electrifying; Erica feels every nerve fibre in her body burning white hot and she can barely breathe. But then Franky hits just the right spot on her clit and suddenly her vision goes spotty and her eyes are forced closed.

“Erica,” she gasps her name around Erica’s clit, coaxing the woman to look down at her again. Erica just barely manages to press the heel of her hand against her mouth, smothering her keening whimpers as she comes, but nothing can stop her body from going so tight she feels the muscles in her legs freeze in protest.

Franky strokes her through it, gently, pressing a soft kisses to her inner thighs and watching her through her too-long fringe. Franky slows the stroking of her fingers until she’s just holding Erica there, watching her chest rise and fall with uneven, hitched breaths, her eyes locked on Erica’s face even when she slams her eyes closed again.

“Franky,” Erica whispers, eyelids opening slowly as her breathing regulates. Franky’s on her feet in a flash, wiping her hand carelessly on her tracksuit pants, and bends to kiss away whatever Erica wants to say.

The realisation she’s tasting _herself_ on Franky’s mouth makes her groan.

“Franky. Franky.” She’s pleading, now, pressing at Franky’s shoulders to move her away, because her next appointment is with Vera and Will and they’re _always_ on time. And she needs a few minutes to splash cool water on her face and think about something clinical like the constitutional heads of power.

Franky just huffs through her nostrils and steps back, licking her lips in that same cheeky way she always does. “Alright.” She just nods and shakes her head. Her cheeks are burning red and her mouth is attractively swollen. But she looks so hurt Erica actually has to look away.

“I’ll need you to come back tomorrow. So we can seriously discuss this parole ...thing.”

Franky snorts and when Erica looks at her she actually laughs at how smug Franky looks. “No need to get cocky.”

“Not what I had in mind,” Franky shrugs and wipes a hand over her mouth. “See you ah, again?”

“Of course.”

It takes Erica a good minute or two after she’s fetched an officer to escort Franky back to her block to realise exactly what she’d promised.

It’s terribly inconvenient that Will and Vera are as punctual as they are, because Erica only has the time to rush to the bathroom and wash her face. She’s flushed through their whole meeting and by the time she’s ready to go home she’s twisting in discomfort at how much she _aches_ for Franky again.

When Mark _makes love_ to her that night, she shuts her eyes and imagines Franky gripping her wrists above her head, twisting a nipple between her teeth, and then fucking her with a strap on. The image sends her over the edge and Mark spends the rest of the night gloating against her neck while she tries to fall asleep.

The next day is torture, but when she walks past the yard, Franky just stares at her with this knowing look, and she feels her insides turn to lava again. She turns to Vera, who is always hovering in her periphery these days, and instructs her to bring Franky to her office after lunch.

A last look at Franky before she re-enters the building confirms she’s making the right choice, she feels herself grow wet at the image of Franky kneeling between her thighs, and instructs Vera to leave her afternoon schedule open.


End file.
